NOVEL NEXT Chapter 293: Tying Up Loose Ends
The council chamber still smelled faintly of ink and ash.
Not incense—ash.
It was the kind of smell that came after a bonfire or a house fire, the one you could never get off your skin and clothes, no matter how hard you tried.
The servants had tried to sweep it out, but ash doesn't leave easily. It settles into the grain, the joints of the wood, the cracks under doors.
I stood at the map table, sleeves rolled to my elbows, the skin of my arms nicked with the dry bite of parchment edges and frost air. Shadows from the candle rack quivered over the long lacquer surface, catching on markers laid like stones: red beads for bribes, black pins for deaths, silver ones for silence bought.
Three markers sat closest to me: Hua, Ren, Han. One breathing, one cornered, one nailed to a gate.
Behind me, the door thudded shut. A footstep—measured, even—followed by the faint scuff of leather on stone.
Deming came first.
He gave me a half smile as he cocked his head to the side. When I smiled back at him with a nod of my own, he walked to the table, hands behind his back, eyes moving to the south watch marker with the kind of precision that meant he had already walked that road.
"The gates are sealed," he said, voice even. "Lantern codes changed. Hua is bound, breathing. He'll stay that way until you decide."
"And the guards?" I asked.
"They've been re-trained. Quietly. I gave them three new call patterns and a test on the spot. No one failed." He paused. "They were afraid to."
I studied him for a moment. His hair was still damp at the ends—he must have washed in cold water after the drill, steam rising as men struggled to keep up. Deming didn't give them speeches. He made them climb ropes until their arms shook, then asked if their loyalty was steadier than their grip.
Good. "Keep them that way."
Deming nodded. He didn't need to say more. He was the kind of man who believed fear, when aimed properly, was more useful than loyalty spoken aloud. I didn't argue.
Longzi came next, a quiet wind in his wake, like the scent of steel cooling after use. He didn't look tired, but his jaw was locked the way it always was when he had been dealing with men who mistook kindness for weakness.
"I swept the barracks," he said without preamble. "Nine soldiers took coin from Hua's men. Three more looked away. All reassigned to border patrols. The rest are under observation."
"Punishments?"
"Public. Nothing dramatic. But visible."
I tilted my head. "How did they take it?"
"Like men who want to keep breathing," he said. Then, almost grudgingly: "One tried to argue. He said coin buys rice, and rice keeps children alive. I told him coin also buys ropes, and ropes put children in coffins. He stopped arguing."
A faint crack ran through his tone, almost like disappointment. Longzi didn't enjoy breaking men. But he enforced it anyway. He reminded me of a hammer striking iron: not eager, not reluctant—simply necessary.
"You didn't enjoy it," I said.
"No," he answered. "But I enforce it."
He stood straight-backed, hands clasped behind him, and I believed him. Longzi never lied about what he didn't like. That made him invaluable. I'd rather trust a man who hated his orders and followed them anyway than one who loved blood for the wrong reasons.
The door opened a final time. Shadow lifted his head from the hearth rug and rose, silent, as Yaozu stepped in.
He didn't carry a weapon. He didn't need to. He carried a ledger, bound in faded silk and scorched slightly at one corner. It looked like any other book—until you opened it.
He placed it on the table in front of me, turned it once so the seal faced up, and said, "Ren's coin. Rope-sellers. Temple clerks. Ledgers hidden behind the rice stores in the warehouse off River Lane. They didn't even bother to lock the door."
I opened the book and flipped through. The handwriting was Ren's, neat and elegant, a man too proud of his forgeries. He'd signed his name to each transaction with the smugness of someone who thought no one would ever find it.
"He's still alive?" I asked.
"For now." Yaozu's eyes flicked to the door, then back to me. "I thought you might want to see him breathe before you decide if he gets to keep doing it."
"I might," I said.
I looked at all three of them—Deming, who had sealed the gates; Longzi, who had swept the barracks; Yaozu, who had brought me proof.
My men. My generals. My knives.
I placed one hand flat on the map, the other on the ledger.
"Lin Wei is safe," I said. "Because you moved as one. Because you hit where I pointed. Because you didn't wait for someone else to act."
Deming dipped his chin, barely. Longzi stood a little taller. Yaozu didn't move at all.
I rolled the map up slowly, tucking the markers into a small silk pouch. No orders. No speeches. Just closure.
The ledger I left open.
"This is over," I said. "The road they tried to build into our city is gone. But the ones who sold the stones are still breathing."
I looked at Yaozu. "Ren."
"I'll bring him in by dusk."
"Alive."
Yaozu's mouth curved. "If that's what you want."
"Deming. Hua stays bound. I'll see him myself."
"Yes," he said.
"Longzi. Strip the rest. If they even think about looking away again, I want them to know what happens."
"They will," he said.
I stepped back from the table and straightened my sleeves.
"Then we're done here," I said. "For now."
They didn't move.
I looked at them, each in turn. "Hit them hard," I said. "Hit them fast. And don't ever let them recover."
The words didn't echo. They didn't need to. They landed, heavy and permanent, like nails through a coffin lid.
They bowed—Deming at the waist, Longzi at the neck, Yaozu with only his eyes—and left.
The map table was bare.
The ledger bled on paper.
And the palace, for the first time in days, was mine again.
I stood alone in the chamber for a long moment, letting the quiet settle. The snow outside scraped faintly against the shutters. Somewhere in the east wing, a boy's breath rose and fell in sleep. I let that image root me.